


One and Two

by IMAgentMI, PFLAgentYork (Legendaerie)



Series: RP-verse [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 12:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11161887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/pseuds/PFLAgentYork
Summary: A quiet moment, filled with song.





	One and Two

**Author's Note:**

> More from the RP verse, this time a collab in discord between myself and Amy. (POV bounces around accordingly)

 

  
"What is this?"   
  
"It's music," York insists, as the first few notes echo through his quarters. God bless the PA system and its excellent speakers - and Delta, for repurposing them for these purposes. "Dance with me."

"The only time I've ever seen you dance was in your armor - you still nearly broke North's nose."  Carolina managed to keep a straight face, but barely.  "Do I need special equipment to survive this?"

He snorts, but doesn't drop his hands. "So cold," he says with a smile. "I promise I'll go slow. Like how you like it."

She does smile at that, places her hand in his, stepping close.  "I also like it quiet.  No chance for that, I expect?"

"No promises."   
  
It's not real dancing - York learned, once, or the person he was before the project knew how to dance and he's not sure he'd recognise them in the mirror - just swaying back and forth to the music, but it's nice. He presses a gentle, soft kiss to her cheek.

She sighs against his neck, swaying with him, relaxing just enough that for one of those rare moments, he leads.

When the chorus hits, York lets himself hum along. He's careful to keep his volume down, like he promised, but it's second nature to meld his voice with the music. He pulls her that last bit closer, enough that she could lean on him if she wanted.

Neither of them are soft, but she feels like she's melting into him anyway, leaning forward until their chests touch, her head finding that perfect spot under his jaw, and she can't find the will to move away

"I knew you'd like this," he says, voice still low, careful not to break the spell. He knows the song well enough to know his timing, and takes advantage of the instrumental break to kiss her on the temple, the cheekbone, the side of her jaw.

"You knew."  Her tone is teasing, but words honest. As she snuggles tighter against him, she swears she can smell the sweetness of the roses that she has since hung to dry, to keep forever.

"I know everything." York nudges her hair out of the way and moves his mouth to her neck, feather-light kisses and a drag of lips before he falls back into the music. "Oh, my love, my darling..."   
  
It's not easy, trying to keep pace with the music and kiss Carolina all the way down to the neck of her shirt, but damned if he won't try anyway. She won't judge him too harshly. Probably. Hopefully.

Carolina shivers, and knows he felt it when he redoubles his efforts.  She closes her eyes, losing herself in the warmth of his mouth over her throat.

He grins against her neck, the hand on her hip sliding up her spine and then down again, repeating the motion over and over until the last notes fade away. "Want to play another? I've got more."

"How many do you have?"

"As many as you want, sweetheart. Offhand... a couple dozen like this."  It feels odd to just stand there, so York continues to press occasional kisses against her neck. "Wouldn't take long to queue up a few more."

Her hand finds his cheek,  guiding his mouth to hers. For a moment the room is silent, then finally filled with the sound of their ragged breathing when she pulls away.  "All of them.  Play all of them."

Pulling away from her then is one of the harder (pun intended) things he's had to do in his life, but orders are orders and he couldn't not listen to Carolina any more than he could stop his heart from beating. The latter is pounding in his chest, making his hands unsteady as he steps away to the panel in the wall, fumbling to drag and drop a playlist.

Because he brings out her playful side, because she never likes to make things easy for him, because she is starved for his touch-- Carolina follows him, her hands sliding over his hips as she presses herself to his back.  She smiles against his shoulder blade at the sound he makes, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper.

He's determined to keep her dancing for a while - keep her moving, on her feet, even if she tries to steal a fresh kiss when he turns around - because this is important. It hits him in all his little sentimental bones, dancing with Carolina. Even if neither of them are trying very hard.   
  
Well. At least he is still trying, still singing soft into her skin, thinking about moving his mouth lower to where the vibrations of his voice will make her moan. 

She'd love to catch his hair in her fingers, pull him down to her lips again, lower, until they are both on the floor, but she catches the look in his eyes as he turns, as he takes her hand, slides his arm around her.  Never while he had two eyes did she ever see the same emotion that shines now in just the one.  And she lets him draw her into the sway again, unable or unwilling to look away or close her eyes.

God, but she's so intense it's difficult to keep up his pace; insecurity tugs at the back of his mind (he's an idiot, a terrible dancer, wasting her time when there's a million and one better ways for them to spend an evening) so he kisses her; this is familiar, this he knows how to do, and still he can keep up the simple two-step.

She wants his kisses, wants his hands, wants everything that this can lead to, but for the moment, she just wants that look in his eye more.  So she pulls back again, almost winces to see the look she wanted replaced with confusion.  So she lets go of his hand, only for a moment, to run her fingertips over his cheekbone, down along his jaw before leaning forward to rest her forehead on his lips.  She takes his hand again, resumes their sway, searches for that magic spot tucked against his neck.  "A little longer... "

He's frozen in place for the last few notes of the song, helpless to do anything under Carolina's touch; but as she leans forward and murmurs encouragement, York feels a weight lift off him. She's enjoying this; well and truly.   
  
"As you wish."

She takes a turn at leading, if it can truly be called that, drawing York into her movements instead of allowing herself to match his.  He makes a sound deep in his chest, one that she's not used to hearing except in the moments when they finally fall still and content in bed, the last peaceful moments before they lose each other in sleep.

And this is what he loves between them, the easily shifted balance between them like oil in a level, rolling the weight back and forth. One of them tires, the other steps up to fill the void, and falls back again in time. This is dancing; unconventional, but as the song's pace picks up and York's steps start to fall into poses not unlike they'd use for sparring, he feels as though he could overflow with it all.

"My lover stands on golden sands," and he holds the note as she spins him out and then back in, "and watches the ships, that go sailing..." York forgets to sing the last refrain, too pleased when he swoons and she follows his lead to dip him.

They stay there, as though frozen in time, as the last notes fade out. One of them breaks first, he's not sure which; but in agreement York's back hits the bed, Carolina bouncing in beside him.   
  
"Leave the music on," she says as he lowers the lights. "Take the rest off, though."

"Yes, ma'am."

 


End file.
